


Apathy

by Thevoidbetweenus



Category: Town of Salem (Video Game)
Genre: I won't sugar coat it, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, This is mostly a Character study, but dragging it out seemed a bit pointless, but yeah this isn't really happy, expanding upon Elwin, last chapter is short I'm sorry, unrequited feelings, witch is cruel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-29 09:23:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8484019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thevoidbetweenus/pseuds/Thevoidbetweenus
Summary: The executioner's target dies at night, and he feels that there is only one solution.  His brother definitely does not agree.Now, Elwin attempts to cope with his losses, and his lack of successful revenge.  Cabrey is determined to help him after years of ignoring the issue.





	1. Prevention

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really sure how I'm going to end this, honestly.  
> I wrote it to expand upon Elwin a bit more, and his relationship with his brother.
> 
> There'll be more chapters of course - I'm not sure how long it'll be either.
> 
> I'm sorry this snippet is so short but I wanted to post it so I'd have motivation to finish it.

Rain saturated the fallen leaves on the pavement, taking away the usual satisfying crunch. Instead, Mr. Elwin Neil Beaumont was left with a sloshy mess as he trudged on through the downpour. He was the only person in Salem outside, as everyone else had gone home once the discussion was called off by the mayor. He had no umbrella – he didn't need one, where he was going.

The executioner approached the gallows, not yet ascending to the stand. He instead admired the noose hanging from it, though it still burned bitterly inside him that the investigator had not been hung there. She had gotten an easy escape – shot by the mafia at night for being an irritation.

Justice had not been exacted upon her properly.

And what was there for him now?

He didn't require a deep breath to steel himself. He knew what he wanted clear as day – his face was blank as he took the first step towards his final destination. A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Elwin." He turned his head and saw his younger brother there, looking at him with the most desperate expression he had seen in years – not since Max had been hung, in fact.

It brought back a whole slew of memories Elwin just wanted to go away.

"Elwin, please," Cabrey said softly. "Step away. Come on, we're going to my house. You can stay with me for awhile."

The executioner didn't get a chance to argue. He was pulled to his little brother's home, fresh clothes thrust into his hands and a towel provided to dry himself off.

Elwin emerged from the bathroom in a shirt and pants much too large for him – he had always been much shorter than the survivor, but Cabrey swore he'd lost weight as well. And not in the good, "oh, you lost five pounds?" way. The younger man evaluated his brother in concern. "Elwin. Do you want to talk about it...?"

"No."

Cabrey sighed heavily, running a hand through his damp hair. "You just almost hung yourself."

"Yes."

"And you have no comment?"

"Correct."

The survivor wanted to scream out of frustration – typical, just typical, why did he ever expect Elwin to open up?

His brother had changed, irreversibly it seemed. He'd never again be the cheerful bodyguard happy to help people, to risk his life to protect them. He was an embittered, twisted, son of a bitch...and the object of his obsession was gone. Cabrey could tell that Elwin was now essentially self-destructing.

He acknowledged that it was partially his fault. When Max had been hung, Cabrey hadn't really paid mind. He was neutral after all – he almost always abstained on votes. He only realized his mistake once his brother's behavior seemed to switch entirely.

Every day, spouting vitriol against the investigator – his hatred only fueled by her seeming inadequacy to actually place what he had become. There had been a respite...for a few blissful, hopeful, wonderful months. And then Adrian was shot by a vigilante and Elwin got much, much worse. He didn't leave his house for a week, and when he finally did emerge...

Cabrey shuddered at memories of his behavior. The fury oozed from him like lava out of a volcano – and he never ceased erupting. He never had any other input during discussion, never talked about anything else – and that was when the survivor had decided to stop talking to his brother. He felt so guilty now... He had done nothing to stop his brother's descent into insanity. In fact, he had practically propagated it. He knew it was too late now, but...he needed to intervene somehow, attempt to help the mess that was his dear older brother.

The whole town had watched it happen, and not one person had tried to help him. With a heavy heart, Cabrey departed to his small kitchen, not sure how to go about this. Would he be able to help at all? He returned to Elwin's side in the living room and handed him a cup of broth. "Drink. You must be freezing."

"I suppose I am," the executioner replied, shrugging rather listlessly. He took a sip of the warm liquid, then met his brother's eyes at last. "You're staring."

An accusation. It seemed that was all Elwin was good at anymore – accusations. "Yeah. Because my brother just tried to kill himself, and is now acting like it's no big deal when it totally is. This is the first time we've talked in years and you're totally unfazed. Of course I'm fucking staring."

"Language," Elwin chided. "...Nothing really bothers me anymore, Cabrey. I'm no longer surprised by anything. And you may have stopped me now, but I'll be able to do it some other time. I could probably get the town to lynch me fairly easily, too."

The survivor put his hands on the other man's shoulders, leaning his face in uncomfortably close. "No," he stated. "I won't let you die because of that god damned investigator. Listen, Elwin." He swallowed, leaning back now and relinquishing his grip. "I'm sorry I've been a fucking awful brother. I cut you off because of how crazy you were acting but I...I understand why you're a nutburger. Max you could've moved on from, I think, with Adrian's help but then Adrian was shot and I didn't even try to help, didn't even try...I'm so sorry. But I'm not gonna let you give up. You can be who you were before. I can help you now. Max wouldn't have wanted this for you, and Adrian sure as hell wouldn't have. You know how much he cared about you. And I care about you too. Please."

Elwin's eyes widened during his brother's impassioned speech, and his lips began to tremble. Max. Adrian. He had been so focused on getting revenge he had rarely thought about the men he was avenging. Memories of gas-smelling shirts and weird inventions, of cab rides and star gazing, of late night gossip, of sipping tea in a spotless kitchen – they washed over him and as he sat on his brother's couch, he could no longer hold back the emotions he had bottled up for years. The tears streamed down his face but he remained silent, his narrow frame rattled with sobs. Damn Cabrey, he was the cause of this, bringing them up as if to torture him -

But when the survivor took the cup out of his hands, and warm arms enclosed around him, Elwin did not resist. His feelings of mourning had finally breached the surface of his psyche, and they weren't receding any time soon. He knew this, and he appreciated his brother's...understanding, if it could be called that. Sure – it was seven years late, but Cabrey was still here, had still stopped him from tying the noose around his own neck and ending all in one kick of a chair...

So he bawled into his younger brother's shoulder, clutching to him like a lifeline. Cabrey held him close, rubbing his back comfortingly. "I won't lie and tell you it'll all be okay immediately," he said softly. "But...I want you to know that I'm here for you. I won't abandon you again. You can work through this – I'll help you." Elwin did not respond for some time, but once he was able to halt his tears, he sniffled and at last replied,

"I'm not sure I can work through it. But I suppose I can try. You're right...my behavior now isn't doing Adrian and Max justice..." He looked almost ashamed now. "...what even am I, Cabrey? I'm a nobody. An executioner without a target." "

Who cares what you are? You're Elwin," the survivor replied. "Worry about that later. For now..." He released the older man from the hug, and returned the still-warm mug. "Worry about drinking that. We can talk tomorrow, yeah? We can skip the meeting – no one will bother us."

Elwin nodded, mutely returning to drinking the lukewarm broth. They sat in comfortable silence for several hours, though the executioner seemed to be in another place mentally. Cabrey reasoned that he was likely trying to cope the end to his apathy, so he left him be. The survivor pulled on his usual bulletproof vest once night rolled around, and he ushered his brother to the guest room in the house. Once the older man was snoring, buried under a mound of blankets, Cabrey at last retired for the evening as well, though he had rather vivid nightmares.

Images of Elwin swinging from the gallows, a wicked smile upon his face. The knowledge that he had voted guilty for his own brother – and an evil spirit coming to reap his own soul that night in penance.

* * *

 

Cabrey woke that morning in a cold sweat, and he immediately ran to the guest bedroom.  He was incredibly relieved to see Elwin sitting on the bed, still in a nest of blankets, nose buried in a book. 

"Oh, thank the heavens..." The survivor breathed.  "I had such an awful dream..." 

The executioner tore himself out of the novel and quirked an eyebrow.  "Care to share?" 

"I – you – I had voted guilty on you and you were hung and then -" 

"That wouldn't happen," was the succinct reply.  "You wouldn't be kind enough to vote guilty on me, Cabrey." 

"Oh, buzz off with that talk.  Watcha reading?" 

"The Scarlet Letter." 

"Oh.  I'm not much a fan of that book.  Honestly, Dimmesdale is worthless, Chillingworth is a creepy bastard, Pearl is just...weird, and Hester is whiny in the beginning." 

Elwin chuckled at this evaluation.  "Mm...I rather like the story.  I suppose I'm a sucker for a tragic romance," he said, his voice growing soft.  "In real life and fantasy." 

The survivor sobered a bit, and he plopped down next to his older brother.  "You ready to talk yet?" 

"I suppose." 

"Well, go on then – talk." 

The executioner snorted.  "What am I supposed to say?  Cabrey, I want to die more than anything.  There is nothing left for me here – I have no purpose.  I miss Adrian so much that the desire to see him seems palpable.  I know that Max got what he wanted, in the end, so while I miss him, that doesn't feel as terrible.  I hope he's happy.  I just...I know Adrian can't be happy, he was shot by a member of the town!  I want to be held by him again...I want to hear another one of his stupid jokes and watch the stars with him and complain at him because he smells like gas.  Without him...life seems so _dull._ I don't even have revenge to keep me distracted from the emptiness at this point."  He hung his head.  

Cabrey listened attentively, chewing on his lip.  He didn't know exactly how his brother felt – he'd never lost a loved one close to him before.  But he could empathize.  He was about to say something, but Elwin didn't give him the opportunity.  The executioner stood and said, "I shouldn't be here, burdening you with this absurdity.  I'm sorry, Cabrey." 

Before the survivor could stop him, he slipped out the door, and Cabrey feared for his brother's life. 

The only thing awaiting him outside was the town meeting... 

And everyone was rather suspicious of the "sheriff," seeing as the investigator definitely hadn't been evil. 

 


	2. Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The jailor watched the jester leave, his heart sinking. If he had only tried to help sooner...   
> But it was too late for that now, and he had a promise to fulfill. 
> 
> The jester knows he must get lynched to get revenge, but that doesn't mean everyone is happy about this.

Sorin was the first person to notice Elwin's emergence from the survivor's house.  The spy didn't say anything, however – merely observed the executioner.  The volatile man seemed unusually calm today.  Instead of joining in with the meeting, he attempted to sneak to his own home.  However, he was spotted by the jailor. 

"Elwin," Jacob called, "are you okay?  Why were you at Cabrey's house?" 

"He was taking care of me," the executioner replied quietly, turning to face all the stares he was now receiving.  "I was...not feeling well.  I'm still not, so if you don't mind..." He turned away once more, treading to his house. 

Sorin watched him suspiciously.  "Now wait," he demanded, "you're not feeling well?  It seems a rather convenient time to fall ill – now that we know you were lying about the investigator all along."  The spy crossed his arms. 

Elwin sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping.  "Listen..." He took a deep breath.   "I wasn't wrong about the investigator – she was evil at her core, not in her title.  But that's not really important because she's dead, and I'll never be able to avenge the deaths she caused, and I'm feeling so incredibly miserable right now that I don't want to talk to anyone," he said.  "Just let me be."  With that, he made his way into his house, slamming the door. 

The town was stunned into silence for several minutes, until at last, the spy spoke up again.  "I'm pretty sure that's more than I've heard him speak in a long time," he realized.  "...Something is up, and I'm determined to find out what." 

The mayor frowned.  "Sorin...I'm not so sure that's the best idea."  She tapped her chin thoughtfully.  "He's obviously sick in the head – thinking that an innocent investigator killed people.  He's probably dangerous, and I don't want you hurt." 

"Oh come on...I'll be fine."  The spy waved off her concern.  At this point, another man interjected. 

"As the investigator's trainee," Michael began, "I will go check him out tonight – see if he'll really be a problem." 

"Good.  Onto our next topic of discussion," Faith declared.  The mayor paused a minute before continuing, "people have been controlled by magic at night, correct?" 

When someone answered yes, the mayor launched into a full on witch hunt – anyone and everyone was apparently suspicious.  Unsurprisingly, the search was not fruitful that day.   

* * *

 

Elwin had two visitors that night.  The first was Michael, who was rather unabashed with his investigations.  The consigliere smiled cordially at the executioner – turned – jester.  "So...now you want to get yourself hung?  Talk about a cycle – you're all torn up about a jester, and now you become one." 

"I'm not in the mood," was the grumbled reply. 

"I thought as much."  Michael's expression softened a bit.  "I'll tell you what...if you don't change your mind within a few days, I can help you out." 

The jester looked at the consigliere with a rather odd expression.  "Thanks," he replied.  "I don't think I'll change my mind." 

"You never know."  The mob member shrugged and offered one last smile before exiting the house.  Elwin flopped down onto his couch, letting the weight of the day sink in. 

He'd refused his brother's help, which had probably not been his best idea.  But it was too late to look back now, in his estimations.  He curled up into a ball on the couch, wishing he could just sink into the floor and never be seen again.  His self-commiserating was interrupted by a woman bursting through the door.  It was Rowena, who slammed said door shut. 

"You!" She hissed, and the man looked at her in confusion. 

"Me?" 

"Yes, you!  You're the one from yesterday, right?  Who nearly hung yourself from the gallows?  Why do I sense magic within you?" 

"What?" Elwin stared at the woman in confusion.  "Magic?  I'm not magical." 

Rowena stepped towards him, eyeing him suspiciously – but the puzzle pieces seemed to fall into place.  "...Oh," she said.  "I understand now.  You're not even worth my time then." 

The jester scowled.  "Then why are you bothering me at all?" 

The witch feigned disinterest  "Well – I sensed a dark magic," she replied.  "Anger, hatred, sorrow – they fuel it, and it's raging inside you.  Nothing important, I see that now." 

"I don't know why I would be involved with magic." 

"Hm."  A smirk slowly spread across her face.  "Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?  You're just a waste," she murmured, towering over his form on the couch.  'A waste of space, a waste of time.  You should just be lynched.  In fact, I'll make sure of it.  I'll make sure you die and that no one remembers the pathetic man named Elwin – an executioner with no target.  You're useless, a burden on the town -" 

"I get it," Elwin interrupted, forcing himself up.  He met the witch's eyes.  "I'm a sorry sap who doesn't deserve to live.  I did not avenge Adrian, I haven't kept his memory alive - I've disgraced him, even.  I shouldn't have been stopped when I almost died yesterday.  I abandoned my younger brother and have even endangered him, since now suspicion will lie on him.  The whole town hates me, and I deserve all the misery I feel," he whispered.  "You don't need to convince me of this.  I already know it." 

Rowena felt the dark presence inside him writhe as he spoke – oh, how it longed to come out.  It had been lying dormant since Max had died, she understood now why.  This twisted soul was such a perfect vehicle for vengeance.  She turned away, satisfied with her findings.  "Do us all a favor and die tomorrow," she said, her voice dripping with sweet honey.  Soon, soon someone in this wretched town would face the jester's wrath – she was determined to make it so.  She traipsed outside, not bothering to shut the door on the way out.  Cold air seeped into Elwin's house, chilling him to the core – but he hardly even noticed it.  Numbly, he slid the door shut.  He got not a wink of sleep that night, instead sitting at his kitchen table in the wee hours in the morning, contemplating all the ways he could get himself lynched. 

Rowena's visit had been a bit disturbing to him, he supposed – a dark magic inside him?  He wanted to discount it, to tell himself that she was lying...but he could sense it now too.  Had it always been there?  Deep inside his venomous mind, had it been waiting for the investigator's death?  He had been so focused on her death that he had looked past it.  He had channeled the thoughts of lynching towards her instead of towards himself – but now he had no buffer.  He couldn't help but laugh as he began to understand, began to see so clearly – he must be lynched!  Forget suicide, a public execution was what he needed! 

* * *

The town awoke to the sight of 3 corpses.  The retributionist had been stabbed by a serial killer, the consort had been mauled by a werewolf, and the vigilante had been shot by the mafia.  Suspicions fell off Elwin for the time – the town was far more worried about killers than a renegade sheriff.   

Even Sorin was distracted – he had turned his attention to Giovanni, who was "far too silent" to be a good guy.  The town launched into arguing and Elwin rolled his eyes as he watched it all occur.  Honestly, what a guy had to do around here to get lynched... 

The meeting ended with nothing getting done.  The jester expected to go home for another miserable night, but he was approached by Jacob.  "Hey..." The jailor said softly, looking a bit hesitant.  "I'm worried about you, Elwin.  Why don’t you come to my house tonight?  I can make us hot chocolate, or something, and we can talk – or not.  Whatever you want.  I just think it'd be better for you not to be alone right now." 

The other man was surprised by this show of kindness.  All he had known from the town was cruelty and distrust.  "I...suppose it couldn't hurt," he said softly, shrugging.  Together, the jester and the jailor entered a rather cozy house, and Elwin was told to sit on the couch. 

"What would you prefer to drink?  I have hot cocoa, tea, just water...?" 

"Tea would be...a nice change of pace," said Elwin, and the words felt familiar on his tongue.  This reminded him of visiting Max, all those years ago – except he was the jester, now, and a jailor was showing this strange kindness to him. 

"Can do."  Jacob offered his guest a small smile before disappearing to the kitchen.  Elwin took an opportunity to look around the small living room.  The walls were a warm Tuscan red, and there was a painting of a happy pig leaping into water above a display case holding many pictures of the jailor and people the jester did not recognize.  It was a pleasant room, all in all – not exactly what he expected of this supposedly ruthless man.  Rumors of the jailor's cruelty were abound.  He apparently killed with no regard to who he executed, but somehow Elwin found this rather hard to believe. 

The jailor returned with two steaming cups.  "Earl Gray, I hope that's alright – it's all I have in stock, I'm afraid." 

"Thanks," Elwin said, taking a mug gratefully and taking a sip.  The burn on his tongue was worth it – he hadn't realized just how cold he had been. 

"Now..." Jacob shifted awkwardly on his feet, appearing almost...shy.  "I know how hard it must have been, for you to see that despite all your interrogations of Leanna, she wasn't actually a mafia member," he said softly.  "I'm so sorry – the framer must've been on her like crazy.  I don't know why people doubt you so heavily – I believe in you, Elwin, I always have.  I'm so sorry that no one else does." 

The jester felt his heart breaking a bit, because – no one should believe in him like that, no one should have put their faith in him so wholeheartedly.  Yet here was Jacob, concerned for him because he genuinely believed that Elwin was a sheriff, that he had been fooled for so long...no one would be so devoted unless... 

Unless they cared for him.  And honestly Elwin didn't think he could bear to let another person into his heart – no matter what it would end badly, either for him or the other person.  But he was planning on dying soon anyways, so he decided that...well, to accept the kindness couldn't hurt.  Jacob obviously meant well.  "I appreciate that," he said honestly.  "I really do.  Jacob..." He took another sip of tea, avoiding the jailor's gaze.  "I'm sorry I misled everyone for so long.  I genuinely believed she was evil." 

"It's not your fault, Elwin."  The jailor smiled comfortingly.  "She had been acting very suspiciously for years, and honestly – she was wrong most of the time anyways!"  He gingerly took a seat next to the jester on the couch, careful not to cause a spill.  "She was the reason that Adrian ended up taking that bullet for me, and the reason Max was lynched...so I understand why you wanted justice.  You deserved justice." 

Elwin nodded slowly, looking over at Jacob almost helplessly.  "There's...still a way I can get justice," he said after some time.  "And I need your help to do it." 

"How?  I'll help you in any way I possibly can." 

"...get me lynched tomorrow." 

Jacob's eyes widened and he shook his head.  "What?  No...no, Elwin, why?  Why do you want that?" 

"...There's nothing left for me here," the jester said, shrugging vacantly. 

"But...you have me, I care about you...and Cabrey, he cares about you..." The jailor seemed almost pleading now.  

"I know, and I'm sorry," Elwin whispered, taking one of Jacob's hands in his.  "But please, please – get my lynched.  My reputation has been ruined anyhow.  Please, Jacob, please." 

A flush spread across the jailor's cheeks, and slowly he nodded.  "I...okay, Elwin.  I will," he said, the decision weighing heavily upon him as his shoulders slumped.  "I promise." 

"Thank you." 

"Can we pretend to be happy for a night, though?" Jacob asked. 

"Who says it's pretend?" Elwin smiled faintly at his host, and for the rest of the evening they sat and reminisced together, simply enjoying each other's company despite knowing what was to come tomorrow.  Before he left, Elwin kissed the jailor lightly on the cheek, and he said, "if things hadn't happened the way they did, maybe we could have had something.  I'm sorry Jacob." 

The jailor watched the jester leave, his heart sinking.  If he had only tried to help sooner... 

But it was too late for that now, and he had a promise to fulfill. 


	3. At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The survivor turned away from the meeting after simply stating, "This town isn't worth being a part of," and he returned to his home. He slammed the door, reveling in the finality of the action...  
> He hoped they would all burn in penance for what they had done.

At the meeting the next day, there was a reluctance to actually kick off the conversation. Dread seeping through him, the jailor knew what he had to do. He stepped in front of the town, and spoke with a sovereign tone. "I jailed Elwin last night," he revealed, "and I have no doubt that he is evil. The mafia did not kill last night, leading me to the conclusion that he is actually a Mafioso, not a sheriff."  
Michael piped up as well, adding, "When I investigated him, I found that he owns a gun. He must surely be the mafioso, then."  
Elwin's expression remained blank. "That's absurd," he deadpanned. "I'm a sheriff, clearly."  
"Don't believe his lies," Rowena cried. "He must be evil, why else would he have misled us for so long?"  
The mayor listened, an eyebrow furrowed. "...I...suppose the evidence makes sense..."  
Cabrey stepped up to defend his brother. "These people are lying," he declared. "My brother doesn't own weapons – the only dangerous thing he owns is a noose, that he plans to use on himself! He's not a killer."  
"He probably wants to hang himself because he's been found out," the consigliere countered, crossing his arms. "It's interesting that you are so ready to defend him..."  
"He's my brother, why wouldn't I?"  
"Ignore Cabrey. He's just a survivor – he doesn't really matter in the scheme of things," Rowena waved the unfortunate survivor off, smirking. "We must lynch Elwin today. He is a blight on our town, and mafia scum!"  
When voting time arrived, there was an almost unanimous movement to put Elwin on the stand. The jester approached the gallows, each step resounding loudly off of the pavement. He knew he was on a death march. He stood, head held high. "I am no mafioso," was his only defense.  
"Lies, lies!" Rowena shouted.  
With a shaky hand, Jacob cast a guilty vote. In fact, the only one in town who did not vote guilty was Cabrey, who stubbornly voted innocent. When the tally came in, overwhelmingly guilty, Elwin began to laugh.  
The noose was slipped around his neck and he cackled, the sound chilling the town to the bone.  
"What's going on?" Faith asked fearfully, her own heavily weighted guilty vote now seeming like an incredible mistake.  
"I will get my revenge at last," Elwin exclaimed, a wicked grin lighting up his face. The autumn leaves swirled around the gallows as the stool was kicked out from underneath him – however, his laughter did not cease like everyone expected.  
Instead, it simply grew louder, and his voice cried, "The jester shall get his revenge from beyond the grave!"  
And then...silence.

* * *

  
Jacob trudged home that day, the guilt hitting him hard. His prisoner that night was a whimpering mess of a man who claimed vigilante – however, it was clear he was the mafioso. With none of his usual conviction, the jailor exacted justice. Blood stained his shirt, but he hardly seemed to notice...the important thing was that he still had one bullet left.  
He approached his trophy case of pictures, picking up one of him smiling with a much younger Elwin – the bodyguard and the jailor, best of friends. That was so long ago, but the memories still hurt. Jacob wished he could have prevented all of this – if only he had been killed, and not Adrian...  
Things would have been so much better. Because he knew that he never could have made Elwin happy. He had only satisfied his friend in death. His shoulders slowly slumped as he held the photograph, tears threatening to spill -  
No, he would face this with dignity. He had gotten his best friend lynched – it was only fitting that he paid retribution. He deserved this.  
He raised the gun that had been the end of so many killers over the years – and with one gunshot it claimed the life of yet another.

* * *

  
Cabrey emerged from his house the next morning rather reluctantly, afraid of what he may see. Only two had died overnight – the mafioso, named Emilio, who had been executed by the jailor...  
And Jacob himself. He had evidently shot himself in the head, his will containing details regarding everyone he had jailed, and a short note as to why he had done this.  
The jester had indeed gotten revenge. The survivor lowered his hat in mourning the fallen hero – but the rest of the town simply moved on with their lives, thankful the jester had not haunted them.  
Cabrey's resolve hardened. His brother may have died, but he was going to survive – he was determined. He would honor Elwin's memory, and Jacob's, though no one else in this dreadful town seemed to care.  
The survivor turned away from the meeting after simply stating, "This town isn't worth being a part of," and he returned to his home. He slammed the door, reveling in the finality of the action...  
He hoped they would all burn in penance for what they had done.

The only question in his mind was...who would burn first?


End file.
